All That's Left
by JoanieNobody
Summary: "Life eats life. And all that's left is what is." AU Shepard is rescued from the Hunters. As he struggles to survive, fragments of his past haunt him. Who is he searching for, and how will he know them when he can't even remember his own name? Shepard/OC.
1. Rude Awakening

**A/N:** I decided to take a little break from my _Walking Dead_ fic to post this, the first chapter of a new _Pandorum_ fic. There are way too few fanfics about this awesome movie, so I decided to add my own contribution. Plus I seem to be on a Norman Reedus kick right now. As soon as I saw his character Shepard my appreciation for the movie rose substantially. Even though Shepard only lasted a few minutes, he was so memorable I just had to write something about him. So, here it is. Hope y'all like it!

**P.S.** The dialog between Shepard and Bower was taken directly from the movie, as is much of the action from the time Shepard gets caught in the trap to when he gets lassoed near the end. Everything before and after that is from my own imagination.

**Disclaimer: I have not the slightest claim on _Pandorum_, the Hunters, or the character of Shepard.**

He woke from a nightmare to find himself falling - no, suspended. Tangled in thick cables. He let out a choking gasp and flailed in panic, knocking the mask off his face. There was a loud click as something disconnected and he fell. Only the narrowness of the cylinder kept him from landing on his face. His nose mashed against the curved wall. He drew back with a groan and touched his nose gingerly, surprised when his fingers came away free of blood. He stared at his hand. The skin was loose and wrinkled, like he'd been soaking in a tub for three days straight. His eyes traveled down his arm, then to his torso. That same wrinkly skin all over. He was naked except for a pair of diaper-like boxers and the harness that had tethered him to the cables.

_Where...?_ It was his first semi-coherent thought. He braced his hands against the sides of the cylinder and rose shakily to his feet. There was a window directly in front of his face. It looked out on a blank metal wall. No help there. He fumbled around until his hand brushed against something and the front of the sleep chamber hissed open. He stumbled, lost his balance, and landed on his hands and knees. _Cold._ He shivered. After a few minutes he rose up to his knees, then somehow got to his feet. He turned on unsteady legs and looked at his former prison. The chamber door had closed behind him. Etched onto the window glass were the words CORPORAL SHEPARD.

_Shepard._ An inkling of memory, like an itch at the back of his brain. _I'm Shepard._ But what the hell was his first name? While he pondered this, he scratched absently at his arm until he felt something tear. Alarmed, he looked down and discovered a rip in the wrinkly skin, revealing normal, healthy flesh underneath. Relieved, he continued to tear away the dead outer layer. Jammed into his left forearm was the biggest intravenous needle he'd ever seen. It was like a goddamned spear! Repulsed, he turned his head away as he pulled it out of his arm, whimpering at the feeling of the huge needle sliding out. He was surprised there wasn't much blood. His eyes drifted from the rapidly clotting wound to a strange tattoo. It was a series of letters and numbers written with the precision of a computer printout: FLT006018. Without even knowing how he knew, his mind translated the strange code: Flight Crew, Team Six.

_So, my name's Shepard and I'm an officer on the flight crew of...whatever this is._ Some kind of deep-space vessel. Which meant he'd probably been asleep for years. _Common side-effects of prolonged hypersleep include disorientation and temporary memory loss,_ a matter-of-fact voice recited in his head, _Intensive training and conditioning is required to counteract the effects so that crewmembers can continue to function in their duties._

Great, so he couldn't remember his own mother, but he still knew how to pilot. What a huge fucking relief, he thought sourly.

He found a storage locker with his name on it. Inside was a uniform, boots, and a handful of mementos. A palm-sized reader, a flint arrowhead with a broken tip tied to a loop of string to make a crude necklace, a picture of a mountain-scape taped to the wall of the locker. There was also a photo of himself posing with an older couple and a young woman who looked a lot like him. A name rose up in his mind: Emma. His sister. Which meant the other two people had to be their parents. He shoved all of these small items - except the reader - into one of the numerous pockets of his uniform and slammed the locker shut.

Something occurred to him. Why the hell was he alone? He should have been awakened by the previous team. Him and the rest of the people on his rotation. So where the fuck was everyone? There were two other cylinders that should have contained the rest of the Team Six flight crew, both empty. It was then that he felt the first hint of trepidation. Something wasn't right.

There was a rumble, a sudden vibration, and the lights flickered overhead. Fearful that he might wind up in total darkness, he fumbled with a door marked EMERGENCY SUPPLIES and cracked one of the light sticks he found inside. And not a moment too soon, because the next thing he knew the lights had given up the ghost.

"What the fuck is going on?" he whispered. It still sounded way too loud to his ears. He grabbed a handful of light sticks and stuffed them into one of the deep thigh pockets, then he headed for the door. There had to be somebody else awake on this ship. He couldn't be the only one.

The feeling of wrongness only grew when he stepped out into the corridor. The walls were coated in grime and some kind of weird mossy growth. Something dripped from a crack in the ceiling panels, making the floor a slippery hazard. Only a handful of lights worked, and most of those flickered like strobes. The place looked like a ghost ship. Shepard was suddenly tempted to turn around and put himself back into hypersleep, but instead he crept down the long corridor, hoping to encounter someone who might give him some answers. The ship was like a maze, each turn leading to even grimmer sights. Once or twice he opened his mouth to call out, only to feel his voice die in his throat. Some instinct told him to keep quiet. It wasn't long before he was glad he listened.

First came the ghostly blue light. Relief surged in him. Someone else was awake! He started to run towards the glow, ready to shout a greeting, when he heard a sound that made him freeze mid-step and his throat constrict in fear. An eerie howl that went straight to the most primitive part of his brain and triggered a fight-or-flight response. He promptly chose the latter option. He found a nearby maintenance hatch and pried it open, flinging his light stick far down the passage so it wouldn't be seen from outside, then diving in after it and shutting the hatch behind him. Morbid curiosity made him leave the hatch open the barest crack. He had to see what the fuck had made that godawful noise.

The blue light's intensity increased as it neared. He heard the regular thunk of footsteps. Then he saw it. At first, his mind couldn't process what his eyes showed him. Jutting spikes and bloodless skin, jagged teeth set in a misshapen skull. Whatever this monstrosity was, it sure as shit wasn't human.

The creature's bulbous head turned from side to side as it sniffled loudly. It reminded Shepard of footage he once saw as a kid about extinct predators. Wolves and tigers sniffing out prey. The thought made him shudder. He wanted to get away, but didn't dare more for fear of that thing hearing him. So he stayed and watched and prayed it would pass him by. Fuck, if only he weren't sweating so much!

The monster continued to snuffle as it slunk down the corridor. Suddenly, it froze. It caught a whiff of something.

Shepard's muscles tensed, ready for flight. _Please don't find me, please don't find me..._

The creature let out a blood-curdling yowl and dashed forward, passing his hiding place. Before relief could set in, he heard a metallic rattle, then a voice shrieked in terror, _"No! No, please! Somebody help me! Hel-"_ The horrible sound of flesh ripping and a prolonged gurgle.

Shepard covered his mouth with his hand to stifle the fearful whimpers. Then he heard something that made his empty stomach heave, the wet slurps of the monster feeding. They seemed to go on forever. When they finally ended, the creature dragged its unfortunate victim's remains back the way it had come. Shepard glimpsed a shredded uniform and a gaping wound where the stomach should have been. He was grateful he couldn't see the dead person's face.

He waited until there was no trace of the monster's blue light before he dared to come out of hiding. He cracked another light stick and shuffled down the corridor in the opposite direction of where the creature headed. He found where the faceless victim had been hiding, an old storage cubby that once contained maintenance equipment. Its door had been wrenched open with such force the hinges were bent out of shape. That fucking monster was _strong_.

A glint on the floor caught his attention. A shard of metal, one end wrapped in fabric as a makeshift handle. A crude weapon. Didn't do that poor bastard any good, though. Still, it was better than nothing. He picked it up and slipped it into yet another pocket, then continued on his way.

* * *

><p>It was impossible to keep track of the days in the ship's perpetual gloom. The few lights that worked proved unreliable, prone to going dark without warning, only to flare back to life when those strange power surges happened. Shepard was pretty sure there was a problem with the ship's reactor, but damned if he knew how to fix it, even if he knew where the reactor was. His only hope was that Earth had found out about the ship's plight and mounted a rescue. This scenario was about as likely as him crapping golden eggs, but if he didn't cling to this slim hope he would probably turn suicidal.<p>

The ship was called _Elysium_, the ancient Greek word for heaven. A sick joke, considering the hell Shepard had woken to. Those monsters were everywhere, prowling the corridors in packs or alone. They were strong and fast and utterly relentless. Shepard quickly grew adept at hiding from them. He coated himself in machine oil to conceal his scent, traveled in silence, and holed up in whatever tight space he could find so he could grab a few hours of uneasy sleep. Food and water were a real problem. Most of the emergency caches were either already emptied or rendered completely inedible when their airtight seals apparently failed at some point. He could feel his uniform getting looser on him.

Hunger and exhaustion soon took their toll. He grew careless. He wandered down a darkened corridor, the last of his light sticks long gone. While he kept his eyes open for the blue light that often preceded the Hunters, as he'd come to think of them, and his ears tuned to any sign of movement other than his own, Shepard otherwise paid little attention to his surroundings. If he had, he might have glimpsed the trap before he sprang it.

It was pure dumb luck that the thin cable didn't wrap fully around his neck like it was meant to. One of his arms went through the loop as well. The metal cable tightened painfully beneath his armpit as Shepard was suddenly yanked upward. So violently was he snared, the metal shard he'd taken to carrying around rather than keeping in his pocket flew from his grip. He couldn't cut himself free. Not that he had a chance to think of it since the top of his head collided with the ceiling before the trap's pulleys unspooled just enough to leave his feet dangling about a foot off the ground. As consciousness fell away, he didn't even have time to wonder if he'd ever wake again.

But wake he did, as abruptly as he'd passed out. His eyes snapped open to discover a shadowy figure standing inches from him. He panicked, certain it was one of the Hunters come to finish him off. He flailed and kicked like a hooked fish, screaming in terror. She shadowy figure grabbed hold of him, trying to restrain his violent thrashing. This only made him try to fight back harder at first, until it began to sink in that this stranger wasn't actually trying to kill him. Then he realized the sounds he heard were words he could understand, uttered in a harsh whisper.

"Quiet! Shh."

Shepard stopped struggling, breathing in rapid, terrified gasps. The stranger's tone softened as he tried to sound reassuring. "We have to shut the hell up. Do you understand? I'm gonna get you out of this, but you have to be quiet. You understand?"

Shepard managed a shaky nod. The stranger's arms withdrew and a moment later there was a loud snip and Shepard dropped to the floor. He landed on his back, momentarily knocking the wind out of him. The stranger stood over him. He was a young guy with close-cropped blonde hair. His uniform was far cleaner than Shepard's was at this point, the name tag sewn on read BOWER. He was wearing one of those nonlethal anti-riot guns on the same hand that clutched a small flashlight, and Shepard saw the telltale red wink of a communications device clipped to the man's left ear. The man played his flashlight beam over Shepard's form and paused at his exposed left forearm. He whispered something to whoever was at the other end of the comm device. Shepard made out the words "Team Six" and "supposed to follow us."

The man, Bower, reached down to touch him. Shepard jerked away and started to hyperventilate again.

"Quiet!" Bower hissed, "Quiet. Easy. I'm not gonna hurt you, but you have to be quiet. Do you hear me?"

The ring of authority in the man's voice did more to calm Shepard than his words did. His training kicked in. "Shepard. Team Six, sir," he answered in a surprisingly level voice, "I believe I'm the only one."

He sat up. "I knew it," he said, relief flooding in, "I knew you'd come back."

Bower frowned. "What?"

Shepard ignored the other's confusion. He looked around. "Where's your squad?"

"Squad? This," he indicated his comm device, "This is my lieutenant."

"Where's your shuttle?" Shepard asked, his relief rapidly dwindling.

"Shuttle? What are you talking about?"

"You're the retraction crew," he said, his voice desperate, almost pleading, "Right?"

Bower's eyes widened in understanding. "No. No, I'm Team Five."

Shepard stared in disbelief. "You just woke up?"

"Six or eight hours ago."

"So you don't know what the fuck's going on," Shepard accused, as if the man had deliberately misled him.

Bower continued to be irritatingly reasonable. "That's what I'm saying."

Shepard growled in frustration. "You know as much as me, man." He struggled to his feet.

"I don't know anything," Bower said, despondent.

"You-" Both men jumped as a strange noise echoed in the distance. It might have been some kind of alarm on the fritz, or it might have been Hunters. It was hard to say one way or the other. Shepard noticed a broken wall panel and hurried towards it. "You're gonna fit right in," he stated sarcastically. He squeezed a leaking hose, collecting a double handful of oozing black crud and smearing it liberally over his hands and face, anywhere there was exposed skin.

Bower watched his actions in dismay. "What are you doing?"

"Get the scent off," he muttered.

"Scent?"

"They're fast and they're fucking stronger than you know." Shepard saw his metal shard lying a short distance away and hurried towards it. He pointed a warning finger at Bower as he passed. "They come after you, you run. You run and you don't fucking look back."

He picked up the shard. "I can't wait for you," he said, voice quavering with guilt and fear. It wasn't a pleasant thing to discover one was basically a coward.

Bower walked up to him. Shepard's growing anxiety seemed to be rubbing off. "Who...Who are they?"

"I can't help you," Shepard swallowed. He took the cable that had originally snared him and began coiling it around his hand, securing the metal shard in his grip. Whatever happened, he wanted to make damn sure he didn't drop his only weapon again.

"Help me," Bower whispered. The poor bastard was just as scared and confused as him. Shepard's guilt flared, but he shoved it aside. This guy would only slow him down, and that meant instant death where Hunters were concerned. Shepard had no intention of dying.

Bower tried another tack, "You're still an officer of this ship, and at the current time your CO is ordering you-"

God, seriously? "Ordering me?" Shepard scoffed, "That's funny."

Bower persisted, "-now is ordering you-"

Shepard snarled, impatient to get away from this naïve idiot, "You're late. There's no fucking CO on this ship." He started to storm away. "Fuck you."

A distant roar coming from the direction he was headed brought him up short. More sounds joined in, yowls and snarls. A blue glow began to creep into the corridor. Shepard stumbled back, the panic rising in him again. He passed Bower, who stood staring in anxious puzzlement. The blonde man raised his anti-riot gun and pointed it at the approaching glow.

"That's not gonna save you," Shepard warned, still backing away. He broke into a run as the howls grew louder. A few seconds later he heard Bower's footfalls behind him. He didn't wait for the other man. Part of him hoped the Hunters might become too occupied with Bower to come after Shepard. He knew he'd hate himself for thinking that later on. If there was a later.

Shepard ran through the maze of corridors until he came to a vast area where the floor was honeycombed with square pits. He jumped over one of them, scrambled into a small alcove, and squeezed himself into the narrow gap. With any luck, the Hunters would overlook him.

He heard Bower cry out, then a heavy thud as his body hit the floor. He'd tried to follow Shepard and only succeeded in falling into the pit. Shepard could see the guy looking at him through the huge window. The idiot was out in the open. The Hunters were sure to spot him.

_Go,_ Shepard mouthed, waving his arm at him. Fucking hide! He then quickly ducked farther back into his hiding place. The Hunters' roars had fallen silent. Did they move on? Shepard risked peering out.

A loop of cable dropped out of nowhere and lassoed him. Shepard was thrown back and dragged rapidly across the floor. He frantically tried to work his fingers under the noose while his legs thrashed ineffectually. Then he was airborne once again. He glimpsed a Hunter dropping on the opposite end of the line as he rose, the creature acting as a counterweight. Shepard's vision went gray as he struggled to breathe. The Hunters yowled in victory and clustered around his dangling form. Shepard lashed out with his shard of metal. The creatures seemed amused by his pathetic attempt to defend himself. They bristled with weapons, knives and spears with jagged blades, made for tearing through flesh. And all were pointed at him.

_I'm gonna die._ It was his last coherent thought before a knife plunged into his side. Shepard's mouth flew open in a voiceless scream of agony. In a second his belly would be ripped open and his guts would spill out. The monsters would start eating him before he was even dead.

But that's not what happened.

The Hunter hanging from the cable suddenly fell as its end of the line was severed. At the same time, Shepard flew upward so swiftly the rest of the Hunters didn't have a chance to grab onto him. Shepard found himself rising through a hole in the ceiling. Hands grabbed onto his arms and dragged him further in. A panel slid over the opening, cutting off the Hunters' enraged howls. Shepard felt the cable loosened from around his neck and gasped, sucking air into his starved lungs even though it hurt his throat to do so. He heard voices, but couldn't make out what they were saying. Everything was moving far away and the darkness was everywhere. Shepard's eyes rolled up into his head as, for the second time that day, he passed out.


	2. Dreams and Memories

**A/N:** And now we branch off from the movie's plot as Shepard begins his own journey aboard the _Elysium_. Not much in the way of action in this chapter, but I do introduce some of my OC's and start delving into Shepard's past. Hopefully, I've made this interesting enough that you'll want to keep reading. ;-)

Definitions for the Russian words sprinkled into some of the dialog can be found at the end of the chapter.

**Disclaimer: Nothing's mine except the OC's and the plot of this story.**

_For once, the sky beyond the dome was relatively clear. Everyone who had time off went out to enjoy the sunlight pouring through the reinforced plexiglass. Some were in uniform, most wore civilian clothes. Shepard was one of the latter. He strode through the big recreational park with his hands in his pockets, enjoying the fresh air provided by the hardy trees and grass, all of which were genetically modified to thrive under minimal sunlight. The protective dome and the park were just a few of the perks afforded to those chosen to crew the _Elysium_. And they damn well deserved it. Training was brutal, not just for their duties aboard ship, but the hard survival that would come once they reached Tanis. Each and every man and woman needed to know their jobs so well they wouldn't have to think about them. They would operate purely on instinct. That way, they wouldn't have to wait for the effects of prolonged hypersleep - namely the memory loss - to wear off. They could just wake up and set to._

_But Shepard wasn't thinking about the years of training still ahead of him. He finally had a day off, and by god he was going to give his poor brain a rest. He took in the sight of his fellow trainees relaxing in various ways. A woman sat on a blanket beneath a tree with her eyes riveted to her palm-sized reader. Some guys tossed a frisbee back and forth. A couple had an old-fashioned picnic, checked blanket, wicker basket, and all. A mixed group of men and women played a game of touch football - more than a few players taking the opportunity to cop a feel. It was while he paused to watch their antics that Shepard caught his first glimpse of her._

_She stood a distance away with her back to him, her shoulder resting against the trunk of a tree. She was talking with a middle-aged blonde woman and a younger man of African descent. Unlike them, she was still in uniform, but her posture was so relaxed she might as well have been wearing jeans and a T-shirt. It was her hair that initially caught Shepard's attention. It was cut unusually short for a woman, no more than half an inch in length. Shepard thought it was brown at first, until she tilted her head and the sunlight hit at just the right angle to reveal it to be a rich auburn color._

_Shepard found himself walking towards her. He had an almost overwhelming compulsion to see her face. As he neared, the man and woman she was talking to fell silent. Curious, the woman started to turn her head..._

His eyes slowly cracked open. He found himself lying on a thin pallet on the floor, staring up at a nondescript ceiling. It took a few seconds for recent events to come flooding back. As the memory of his near death flashed in his mind, Shepard panicked and tried to sit up, only to hiss when pain flared in his side. He lay back down and gingerly touched the area that hurt. His fingertips encountered fabric different from his uniform. That was when he realized the top half of his uniform had been stripped off and clean bandages wound around his middle.

"Ah, you're awake!" a man's jovial voice rang out, "You had me worried for a moment."

Shepard raised his head just enough to peer in the direction the voice was coming from. What he saw made him wonder if he was hallucinating. Crouched by his feet was an older man, perhaps sixty, sporting a thick beard, aquiline nose, and the longest, thickest dreads Shepard had ever seen. The fact that the old man was obviously white and spoke with a thick eastern European accent made him doubt the guy was a Rastafarian.

"Please, don't get up," the old man's pale eyes twinkled merrily, "You must give yourself time to recuperate. You've suffered a nasty bit of hanging with a touch of attempted disembowelment. I have stitched up your stab wound. Lucky for you those animals missed your vital organs. I have also given you an injection of my own special cocktail of aggressive antibiotics and antivirals. Lord knows what sort of nasty mutated pathogens may be floating around."

Shepard blinked. He wanted to ask the guy who the fuck he was, but all that came out of his mouth was a faint croak and then he winced.

"I am afraid your larynx has taken some abuse from that rope around your neck. I've applied an anti-inflammatory patch, but it may be a while before it takes effect." The old man suddenly slapped himself on the forehead. "Oh! But where are my manners. Please, forgive an old man in his social lapses. I am Mikhail Ivanov. Doctor, in fact." He rolled up his sleeve to display his tattoo. The first three letters read MED. "My specialty is actually pediatrics. But you needn't worry about my ability to tend your injuries. You are Corporal Shepard, _da_? It said so on your uniform."

Shepard nodded.

"You must have woken fairly recent. Your uniform is hardly tattered, though it is quite loose on you. You must be hungry, _da_? Just a moment." Ivanov stood and went to a stack of crates where a makeshift stove rested. Light sticks and emergency lanterns cast a gentle glow over the room. He picked up a steaming mug from the burner and brought it to his patient. "Believe it or not, the moss which grows everywhere is actually edible, though you would not know it from the taste." He grimaced apologetically. "Still, beggars can't be choosers, _da_? Can you swallow?"

Shepard tried. It hurt, but he could do it. He nodded.

"_Harasho!_ I have taken the liberty of preparing a broth. It is slightly more palatable this way, not to mention easier on your poor throat." The old man helped Shepard sit up and handed him the mug. "Give it a try."

Shepard stared doubtfully at the mug's contents. Despite the doctor's assurances, he wasn't sure ingesting that weird moss was such a good idea. The fact that it stank like old socks didn't help much. He almost handed the mug back, thanks but no thanks. But then his stomach growled. Oh, what the hell, he thought, and took a tentative sip. If anything, it tasted even worse than it smelled. Shepard's face twisted in disgust as he forced himself to swallow. He managed to choke down almost a third of the horrid stuff before he finally shoved the mug back into Ivanov's hands.

The old man beamed. " _Prekrasnia._ That is more than I managed the first time I tried this swill." He tossed back the remainder of the broth, dabbing his lips on his sleeve afterward. "Not to worry," he continued, "The ladies have gone on a little expedition. They should return momentarily and, with any luck, they will bring food of a much better quality for you. The patient must build up his strength, after all."

Shepard frowned. "There's others?" the question came out in a hoarse whisper.

Ivanov's eyes widened. " _Kanyeshna_, there are others. You don't think I could have pulled you up so quickly on my own? I am in fact fortunate to have two lovely companions of the feminine persuasion. Normally all three of us go out together for supplies, but then we discovered you in your potentially tragic situation and found ourselves in a position to rescue you. We were up high where the beasts could not reach us easily. We brought you back here and I volunteered to stay with you while the others are out on our interrupted scavenging trip." The old man pointed a blunt finger at him. "You are a very fortunate young man."

Shepard smiled at the truth in those words. "Thanks," he whispered.

"You're welcome. _Pajalsta. _Now, lie down and please give your throat a rest."

Shepard offered a sarcastic salute and did what he was told. As he stared up at the ceiling once again, he ran through the dream he'd woken from. Only he was pretty sure it wasn't just a dream, but one of the countless memories locked away in his hypersleep-addled brain. An important one, though he couldn't say why. He wondered who the woman was. Someone important to him, or just a random encounter that never went anywhere?

There was a rhythmic knocking. Ivanov hurried over to the far wall and shifted aside a big heavy panel. There was a door behind it. The old man slid it open and two women hurried inside. Ivanov quickly shut the door and replaced the panel.

One of the women was a petite Asian with long graying hair tied back in a neat bun. The sleeves of her uniform had been torn off, leaving her bronze-skinned arms bare. The faded name tag read IMAHARA.

The other woman was quite a bit taller, just shy of six feet. She wore a mishmash of salvaged clothing and her dark hair was raggedly cut at chin length.

Both women were smeared in black grease (nice to see Shepard's idea wasn't totally useless) and carried several wicked-looking blades they'd no doubt taken from some Hunters. They also carried bulging sacks slung over their shoulders.

The Asian woman, Imahara, grinned and passed her bag over to Ivanov. "We found a cache of med supplies."

"Ah! _Spashiba bolshoy_, dear lady!" the old man beamed, "Were you also fortunate enough to find some food?"

"And water," the second woman hefted her own sack. Her voice was oddly husky, like she was getting over a cold. "Might have to soak some of the nutrient blocks for a while, though. They're kinda petrified."

"Know how they feel," Shepard rasped. It seemed the patch the old man had applied was doing its work. His throat didn't hurt as much as it did a few minutes ago.

The women looked at him. Imahara grinned, "Oh, good! You're awake. Hope Mike hasn't been talking your ear off."

The old man drew himself up. "Sharing pleasant conversation is hardly 'talking someone's ear off'. And even if that were the case, I am sure the good Shepard would be gentleman enough to let me know in the politest way."

Shepard couldn't help but smile at their banter. They'd obviously been surviving together for quite a while to be so comfortable with each other.

Ivanov indicated the two women with a grand sweep of his arm. "Allow me to introduce my lovely companions. Doctor Kuri Imahara, Japan's foremost botanist, and Lenora Jethro, a brilliant maintenance technician."  
>Jethro rolled her eyes. "Please, I'm a glorified wrench monkey."<p>

"Who can jerry-rig just about anything we need," Imahara countered. She turned to Shepard and pointed towards the makeshift kitchen. "She actually made that little camp stove out of a bunch of parts she took out of a wall panel."

"I just twisted a few wires together is all." Jethro pulled out a bottle of water for herself and passed the bag over to the other woman, who went to fix up a meal from their find. Jethro took a seat on the floor with her back to the wall not far from Shepard's pallet. She twisted the cap off the bottle and took a generous swig. As she tilted her head back, Shepard saw a jagged scar running across her throat. That explained the husky voice. She looked at him in mild curiosity, then held the bottle out to him. Shepard took it with a nod of thanks and swallowed some water in a series of careful sips.

"So, how long have you been awake?" Jethro asked conversationally. On the other side of the room, Ivanov and Imahara bickered pleasantly over how best to prepare their meal.

Shepard shrugged, "Couple of weeks, maybe." He offered the water back to her. She shook her head, indicating he could finish it. He took another swallow and asked, "What about you? How long've you been up?"

Jethro sighed, "I was in my mid-twenties when I was revived." Shepard took in the worry lines on her face, the crow's feet and creases along her brow, made more pronounced by the oil she'd put on. "So, I guess maybe ten years," she concluded.

Shepard's jaw fell open. _"Ten years?"_

"Mike's been up even longer, probably as much as twenty years."

"Jesus." He shook his head in dismay, all sorts of questions running through his mind. He voiced one at random, "Were the Hunters on the ship even then?"

Jethro smirked humorlessly. "The man-eating monsters? Yeah. They've been here a long time."

"How the fuck did they get aboard? Where'd they come from?"

The woman pursed her lips. "Mike and Kuri have a theory. I didn't wanna believe it at first, but it fits with everything else I've noticed."

"What's that?"

Before she could respond, Ivanov's voice bellowed, "Dinner is ready!" He and Imahara each carried two plates over, handing one to Jethro and another to Shepard. "Good thing pre-cooked emergency rations do not take long to heat, _da_? Not so long a wait," Ivanov stated.

"Unfortunately," Imahara added, "they're still emergency rations, so don't expect much in the way of flavor."

"Stopped being picky a while ago," Shepard said. They all dug into their nutritious mush, shoveling the food into their mouths with forks or spoons, whatever they happened to have. Shepard's gaze shifted from one face to another. If they noticed his scrutiny they offered friendly smiles. They'd show no hesitation in taking him in, tending his wounds and feeding him, when for all they knew he might've been a violent raving lunatic. He lowered his eyes and stared down at his half-finished meal, his appetite waning.

"What's wrong?" Imahara asked. The others looked at him in concern.

Shepard hesitated before answering, "There was this guy named Bower. I was caught in a trap, he cut me down. Then a couple of minutes later the Hunters came after us. I didn't wait for him. He was right behind me, but I didn't wait for him."

"I'm sorry," Ivanov said, not at all put off by his admission of cowardice, "We did not see anyone but you."

"We got separated."

"Then maybe he got away," Jethro suggested. A dim hope.

"Maybe," Shepard agreed, though he clearly wasn't convinced. Bower hadn't impressed him as someone with a high probability of survival. It was more likely the Hunters turned on him when Shepard was no longer in their reach. He was probably nothing but a pile of bones by now.

Shepard set his plate aside, no longer hungry. Jethro abruptly picked it up and pushed it back into his hands. "Finish it. You don't waste food, no matter how bad you feel."

Shepard would have bristled at her admonishment, but he was too glum. So he did as he was told and finished his meal. Jethro gathered up everyone's plates once they were done and took them to be cleaned. Shepard lay back down on his pallet and pulled the blanket up to his neck. His full stomach coupled with his harrowing experiences left him feeling exhausted. The others kept their voices low as he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

><p>In sleep he dreamed, and his dreams were memories...<p>

_..."Aren't you a little old to be a mere corporal?" the auburn-haired woman teased. The initial introductions had gone without a hitch and when Shepard asked if he could buy her a drink somewhere, she'd said yes. But instead of a bar she took him to a little outdoor cafe (or as outdoor as one could get under the dome). They both ordered iced cappuccinos and sat across from each other at one of the little circular tables situated beneath a big parasol, where they proceeded to have an enjoyable conversation laced with flirtatiousness._

_"Guess I'm just not that ambitious," Shepard replied._

_"I find that hard to believe. I mean, why else would you have beaten out the competition to get on the _Elysium_?"_

_"That's not ambition. That's saving my own ass." He took a sip from his straw. "Earth's on its last legs. I wanna be far away when this planet finally kicks it."_

_She pursed her lips and gave a slow nod. "Least you're honest about looking after your own interests."_

_"Okay, private," he countered with a chuckle, "Why are _you_ going?"_

_Her eyes lit up. "Just the idea of setting foot on another world, one that has life on it! People have been arguing and theorizing about life on other planets for centuries, but until those probes reached Tanis we just didn't know for sure. Now we do. Earth isn't unique. There's life out there, and if there's life on Tanis there has to be life on other planets, too. And if there's life on other planets, some if it's bound to be intelligent. Can you imagine? Whole other kinds of people that we might get to meet someday!" Her enthusiasm was so innocent, like a child talking about Christmas._

_Shepard grinned at her. "I bet you used to read a lotta sci-fi as a kid."_

_She laughed, "Hell, I _still_ read sci-fi. And now I get to live it!"_

_He smirked and raised his glass. "Well then, here's to living the dream."_

_Grinning, she raised her own glass and clinked it against his..._

Shepard roused just enough to roll onto his left side, mindful of the wound on his right. He slid back into deep slumber, letting the rising memories wash over him...

_...They lay on their sides in Shepard's narrow bunk, bodies spooning. One of the rare days off they both had at the same time, and they inevitably spent it together. It was a pattern they'd developed over the last couple of years. Neither of them had expected the relationship to last this long, nor did they think their feelings for each other would deepen as they did. It was only supposed to be fun, a little relief from their stressful training. After all, they were too different in too many ways for anything meaningful to come of this, not the least being the difference in their ages. Shepard was sixteen years her senior, and yet neither of them gave this any thought. Just as they didn't give any of their other differences any thought. They just didn't seem all that important._

_Shepard nuzzled the back of her head. He liked the way her buzz cut tickled his nose, one of those silly details that tended to crop up in long-term relationships. "You awake?" he murmured._

_"Yeah," she whispered back._

_"Thinking about tomorrow?" They were all getting their tattoos, which meant they were only a year away from their launch date. Soon Shepard would find out which flight team he would be assigned to. He would spend time with his fellow team members, running through countless drills until they could work together as a single functioning unit. It meant even less free time than before, and once they did finally launch, he would in all likelihood not see the woman in his arms __again until they reached Tanis. The two years he would spend on his shift aboard _Elysium_ were sure to be the loneliest he'd ever had to endure._

_"Maybe there'll be some kind of malfunction during your shift," she said hopefully._

_Shepard grinned. "Maybe I'll try my hand at a little sabotage."_

_"Don't you dare!" she laughed, "They'll toss your ass back into hypersleep and throw away the revival sequence."_

_His hand slipped under her nightshirt, fingertips brushing against her skin just below her breasts. She sighed against him. She loved it when he did that, another silly detail._

_"You're always going on about all the firsts that're gonna happen when we get to Tanis," he said, kissing the side of her neck._

_"Mm-hmm?" She tilted her head to give his mouth better access._

_"So," another kiss, "What if we're the first people to get married there?"_

_He felt her tense. She slowly turned over to face him. The faint light coming through the window illuminated her shining eyes. "Are you serious?"_

_"Yeah," he smiled, "Believe it or not, there's some shit I don't joke about."_

_She stared at him for a long moment, then her teeth glimmered as her mouth split into a wide grin. Her hand went to the back of his head and she pulled him into a deep kiss. "I love you."_

_"I love you, too."_

* * *

><p>Someone was shaking him. It was only when he woke that Shepard realized it wasn't some<em>one<em>, and it wasn't just him being shaken. The whole room, probably the entire ship, was in the midst of a shuddering quake. A light overhead flickered and blazed until the shaking finally stopped and the light gradually died. Shepard sat up and saw the others, lying on their own pallets, had also been roused. All wore the same worried expression he felt on his own face.

"It's getting worse, isn't it?" Imahara asked, her eyes on Jethro.

The other woman nodded. "Won't be long before the reactor shuts down completely."

"Shit," Shepard said, a sentiment shared by all. Without the reactor to power life support and run navigation, they were all as good as dead. The _Elysium _would be nothing more than a giant floating tomb.

"Is there no way to repair it?" Ivanov asked.

Jethro shrugged. "Might be possible to reengage it."

Shepard looked at her. "You a ship's mechanic?"

"Not quite." She showed him her tattoo: MTN. Maintenance.

"Oh, right. Ivanov mentioned that." Maintenance technicians ranked lower than the ship's mechanics, who were part of the flight crew. They were kept in hypersleep along with the rest of the passengers unless a ship-wide emergency occurred that was more than the mechanic could handle on his own required they be revived. Then, once the emergency was taken care of, they were promptly returned to hypersleep.

Jethro regarded Shepard with a speculative air. "You're a member of the flight crew, right?"

"Yeah," he said, eying her warily.

"So you have access to the ship's central computer."

Ivanov perked up at this. "Do you think he can get us to the reactor so that you can repair it?"

"I'm sure he could," she replied, "But that's not what I had in mind."

"What _do_ you have in mind?" Shepard asked, a sense of dread rising in him.

Jethro turned her level stare on him. "I want you to activate the ship's evacuation protocol."

Russian words:

_Da_ - Yes

_Harasho_ - Good

_Prekrasnia_ - Wonderful

_Kanyeshna_ - Of course

_Pajalsta_ - You're welcome

_Spashiba bolshoy_ - Thank you very much


	3. The Things He Can't Remember

**A/N:** Lotta exposition in this chapter. Hopefully, I made it interesting enough.

Thanks to JadeSun12 and gaarsaku4ever for the reviews!

**Disclaimer: I make no claim to _Pandorum_, the Hunters, or Shepard. Only my own characters, which I'll thank you to keep your grubby little hands off of. Have a nice day. :-D**

"Are you outta your fucking mind?"

"Fixing the reactor's only a temporary solution," Jethro argued, "If we want to survive, we have to get off this ship. Not just us, but everyone who's still in hypersleep."

Shepard stared at her, aghast. "You're crazy," he said, "You don't even know where the hell we are. We could wind up falling into a star or crashing onto some airless fucking rock or just float out into deep space forever."

"That won't happen."

"How the fuck would you know?" he snapped.

It was then that Imahara spoke up, heading off Jethro's response. "Lenora, give him a moment. He's already been through a lot and right now isn't the time to lay more pressure on him."

Jethro frowned at the other woman. "We don't have time-"

"Kuri is right, _devushka,_" Ivanov interjected, "Leave him be for now."

"I can talk for myself, y'know," Shepard grumbled, not caring how childish he sounded. He sat on the pallet with his back against the wall, face set in a stubborn scowl. Jethro sighed and got up. She wandered over to a far corner of the room to either cool off or give him some space, or both. Ivanov went to the stove to heat up some breakfast while Imahara lay down once again, still tired.

Shepard was as alone as he'd ever be. His hand wandered over to his hip and slid into a pocket. The arrowhead necklace he'd gotten from his locker was still there. He traced its edge with his thumb, taking comfort in its irregular contours. He found himself thinking about the memory he'd dreamed of before the reactor's conniption fit woke him. A lump formed in his throat at the thought of the woman he'd fallen in love with god knew how long ago. He didn't even remember what she looked like. Every time he tried to recall her face, it all went blurry like a bad camera effect. He knew what her skin felt like and the sounds she made during sex, but he had no idea what color her eyes were. He remembered that she preferred strawberries to chocolate and that she'd nip at his lower lip just before kissing him, but couldn't recall if she was left or right-handed. He remembered what she smelled like, but he no longer knew her name. Even though Shepard knew it was beyond his control, these gaps in his memory felt like he was betraying her.

They were going to marry once they reached Tanis. Despair flooded him. Was she even still alive? Tucked away in her sleep chamber or eking out a bare existence in the Hunter-infested ship? Would he know her if he found her? Would she know him? Or - oh, God, he so wanted to shy away from this thought - was she already dead? Had the Hunters gotten her? Did they... And now his mind recoiled before he finished that thought. Shepard hadn't prayed since he was a kid, but he prayed now that his half-remembered fiancée was still asleep. Those chambers were damn near impossible to break into. It was the safest place for her.

He was distracted from his fears by Ivanov's approach. The old man knelt beside him and offered one of the steaming mugs he carried. Shepard gave it a distrustful glare. "More of your shitty moss?"

"Instant coffee," Ivanov answered, "Almost as unpleasant."

Shepard snorted and accepted the cup. He took a sip. The stuff was sharp and bitter going down.

Ivanov sighed and shifted himself to a sitting position. "I had hoped the ladies would find something resembling tea. I truly miss tea." He took a desultory sip from his own mug.

"How long has Jethro been living here with you?" Shepard asked.

Ivanov rolled his eyes upward in thought. "Oh, a few months. Kuri has been with me for at least a year."

"Jethro told me she woke up about a decade ago. Was she alone all that time?"

"As far as I know. She rarely discusses her past, what she can remember of it." The old man smirked. "You think perhaps her mind has cracked, _da?_"

"And you don't? Launching everybody off the ship, that'd be mass murder."

"Even if that were true, it may be kinder than the fate that awaits them here," the old man stated solemnly.

Shepard frowned. "'If that were true'? Why the hell _wouldn't _it be true?"

Ivanov tugged on one of his dreadlocks in thought. "It might be best if all of us explained. Perhaps then you will understand how we reached our conclusion."

Shepard growled in frustration. He didn't like that these people were holding back. What the fuck could have convinced them all that evacuating the ship was the best choice?

If it wasn't for his wound, he likely would've decided to strike out on his own and to hell with these nutjobs. But Shepard didn't relish the idea of trying to survive alone after being stabbed. What if it started bleeding or got infected? The Hunters would sniff him out for sure. Here in this hideaway he was relatively safe. Unless these people decided to go all _Deliverance_ on him, in which case he was screwed in the very worst sense of the word.

Ivanov got up for a moment and returned with a couple of protein bars. Shepard accepted one with a nod and tore off the wrapper. The label claimed it was beef stew flavored, but if so then there had to have been something seriously wrong with the cow. Shepard grimaced as he chewed a mouthful of cardboard-and-chemical pulp. The only consolation was that Ivanov looked just as unhappy with his own breakfast.

Imahara woke again a little while later and went to get something to eat. Jethro joined her. The two women each choked down a protein bar while Shepard waited impatiently. Once they were done, he spoke up, "We're all up now. So what is it you were gonna say to convince me to abandon ship?"

Jethro glanced at her companions, who nodded, and answered first, "I started to suspect it a few weeks after I was revived. Before then I guess I was too busy trying not to get killed by those fucking monsters - the Hunters, I guess you call them." She shifted to a more comfortable position. She was seated on one of the sleeping pallets, as were all the others. "Anyway, I was crossing one of the catwalks when the damn thing started to collapse under me. I managed to reach the other end before it fell. Now, my training lets me know damn near every rating and safety spec on every nut and bolt of this ship, so I _knew_ what happened with the catwalk never should've happened. So I got down to examine the anchor points, and that's when I found the cause of the catwalk's failure."

"Which was?" Shepard prompted, wondering where the hell this was going.

"Metal fatigue."

"Okaaay..." He obviously didn't get it.

Jethro repressed a sigh. "Look, the alloy composites this ship's made of are the toughest ever created. For it to wear out to the point of collapse..." she shook her head in dismay, "It means we weren't asleep for just a few years."

"The Hunters are another indication," Imahara interjected, "Mike and I, we each had our suspicions, and we've both discussed it since we met. Genetics aren't either of our specialties, but we understand enough as scientists to come to the same conclusion."

Shepard didn't bother to suppress his own sigh. "You gonna share, or are you having too much fun stringing me along?"

Ivanov explained, "The enzymes we have all been given while in hypersleep were meant to speed up evolution. Tanis is a fine world, and every test run by the probes says it is suited to supporting human life. But it is not a _perfect_ fit, _poinyal?_ That is why we were given the enzymes, so that our descendents would adapt far more quickly than nature would have allowed."

"And the enzymes worked," Imahara continued, "Only not the way they were intended."

Shepard stared at the three of them in rising dread. "No."

"Yes," Jethro stated, "It all makes sense. The decay, the metal fatigue, the reactor... This ship is dying. _Elysium_ was designed to last for _centuries_. It was supposed to outlast our great-great-grandchildren's great-great-grandchildren. Now it's all falling apart. Something must've gone wrong early on in the mission. Something so devastating it left the ship without a flight team and, for some reason, left a bunch of people awake and stranded in the worst conditions. And when they started breeding-"

"No," Shepard shook his head, not because he didn't believe, but because he didn't want to, "No way are those fucking things human!"

"They are," Ivanov said calmly, "Or rather, their ancestors were."

A shudder ran through Shepard's body. For a moment he thought his breakfast was about to make a reappearance, but he managed to fight down the nausea. He squeezed his eyes shot and took a deep breath, held it, then slowly let it out. He opened his eyes, a little calmer now. "'Kay, so...even if all that's true, it still doesn't mean evacuating's the best idea. I mean, we don't even know where we are."

Jethro stood in one fluid motion. "C'mon. There's something I wanna show you."

Shepard frowned, but knew there was no point in arguing. He winced as the act of standing tugged at his stitches. He pulled his uniform top back on and zipped it closed. There was a gash in the material where the Hunter's knife had torn through. Hand pressed to his tender side, he followed the woman to the reinforced door. Ivanov got up and moved the heavy panel aside for them. Jethro picked up a nasty looking spear that leaned against the wall and peered cautiously out into the poorly lit corridor. When no immediate danger was apparent, she gestured at Shepard to follow and stepped out from the safety of the room. Shepard followed with great reluctance. Behind him, he heard the door close and the muted clunk of the panel being replaced. So much for a quick escape should things get dicey.

Thankfully, they didn't have to go far to see what Jethro wanted to show him. At first Shepard didn't know what she wanted him to look at. It was just another part of the corridor, though he did notice the ceiling at this spot had sprung one of the numerous leaks he'd seen throughout the ship. The moss grew especially thick here.

Jethro indicated the dripping moisture. "What do you think this is?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. Coolant, maybe? _You're _the maintenance tech."

She fixed him with a level stare. "Taste it."

Shepard blinked. "'Scuse me?"

The corner of her mouth twitched in amusement. She reached out and caught a few drops on her fingers, then brought them to her lips. "It's safe enough," she assured him.

Still wary, Shepard wet his fingertips under the weak flow and brought them to his mouth. He only let the very tip of his tongue lick up the moisture. He drew back in surprise. "What the hell? Salt water?"

"Sea water," Jethro's voice was subdued, "Like I said, _Elysium_ didn't have a flight team. So, when the ship reached Tanis, it tried to land itself. My guess is it's aim was a little off and we wound up in the ocean."

Shepard felt numb. It was one shock too many in too short a span of time. He leaned his back against the bulkhead. "Jesus Christ."

Jethro gave him a sympathetic look. "You understand why we have to evacuate now?"

He shook himself from his shock-induced daze. "N-no! I don't! If we're under the damn ocean the capsules-"

"The capsules can make it," Jethro said in total confidence, "Those things were made to withstand reentry and survive both ground and water landings."

"But you don't know how deep we are or how far from land," Shepard protested.

"At least it's a fucking chance," she hissed, her patience fraying, "If we do nothing we're dead. _All_ of us."

Shepard licked his lips and made one last weak argument, "Earth could still send another ship."

"If Earth had sent anymore ships we wouldn't be here now. The first thing they would've done once they landed was rescue everyone on board _Elysium_. Those goddamn Hunters never would've evolved and they wouldn't have eaten damn near all the passengers."

Her words were like a punch to the gut. Shepard remembered all the hypersleep chambers he'd passed on his way from one hiding place to another. How many of them still had people in them? Two? Three? He remembered wondering where everyone had gone, but didn't bother to dwell on it since surviving seemed more important at the time. But now his mind wouldn't let it go. Centuries. They've been asleep for centuries. Those things, the Hunters, have been roaming the ship for centuries...feeding. How long does it take to eat sixty thousand people?

"How many of us are left?" he asked weakly.

Jethro shook her head, her expression sorrowful. "I don't know. Maybe a couple thousand?"

He wasn't aware of his legs giving out. The next thing he knew, Jethro was half-carrying him back into the room. Imahara quickly helped her bear his weight while Ivanov moved the panel back into place. The two women dragged the semiconscious man over to a pallet and lay him down. Shepard curled into a fetal position, eyes squeezed shut. He didn't want to know anything more. He wished he could forget what he already knew. Dead, dead, they were all dead. Dead and eaten by those _things_. And no one was going to save them. No one was coming to dig him out of this hellhole.

And her. Oh God, please God, don't let her be torn apart by those monsters, don't let her be gone, please God... But deep down part of him knew it had to be too late. She was gone. And he couldn't even remember her name.

His hand crept into his pocket and curled around the arrowhead, its edges digging into his skin. He pulled it out, clutched in his fist, and brought his hand to rest beside his face.

* * *

><p>"Do you think it was too much for him?" Imahara asked. The three of them were seated on the opposite side of the room, watching Shepard with concern. It had been almost two hours since he and Jethro returned and he hadn't moved or said a word in all that time.<p>

Jethro ran her fingers through her raggedly cut hair. "Sometimes I think it's too much for _me_."

They tensed as yet another power surge rattled the ship. Only Shepard seemed unaffected. When it passed, the three companions exchanged troubled looks.

"This ship is in its death throes," Ivanov mused.

"If the reactor dies," Jethro said, "we won't be able to set off the evacuation protocol."

"We may not anyway, if our friend there doesn't cooperate," Imahara pointed out.

"He will," Jethro assured her.

The botanist seemed unconvinced. "He doesn't exactly strike me as the heroic type."

"He'll do it," Jethro insisted, "Just give him some time."

"Time is a luxury we have precious little of, _devushka_," Ivanov warned.

They fell silent as Shepard finally moved. He sat up slowly, weighed down by shock and grief. He returned something to his pocket, then ran his hand through his hair. "Gotta get to the bridge if we wanna start the evacuation," he muttered.

"So you'll do it?" Jethro asked, hopeful.

"Sure. Why the fuck not?" he said dully, "Not as if I got anything left to lose."

Ivanov walked over to the younger man and rested a beefy hand on his shoulder. "_Spashiba_, by friend. You are a good man."

Shepard snorted. "Like I said, I got nothing left to lose."

They wasted no time in getting ready, taking only weapons with them. If they failed, they wouldn't survive long enough to go hungry. Despite his gloom, Shepard had to smile at the sight of Ivanov hefting two massive broadswords. "You look like one weird-ass Viking."

The older man chuckled, a robust sound that reverberated through his barrel chest and brought smiles to everyone's faces.

Imahara handed Shepard a long blade that looked like a cross between a scimitar and a steak knife. He stared at the weapon dubiously. "What the hell am I supposed to do with this?"

"Simple," the Japanese woman grinned, "Just swing it at any Hunter you see."

"Preferably before they swing at you," Jethro added.

"Thanks," his tone dripped with sarcasm.

As they gathered in front of the door, Shepard took a deep, steadying breath.

"Ready?" Ivanov asked, hands on the metal panel. At the others' nods, he moved the panel aside and opened the door. The four of them stepped out into the darkened corridor.

* * *

><p>Russian words:<p>

_Devushka_ - Girl/Young woman

_Spashiba_ - Thank you.

_Poinyal?_ - Do you understand? (masculine)


	4. Not Alone

**A/N:** Nearing the end of this fanfic, just one or two chapters left after this one. It's not a very long story, but I hope I've succeeded in making it an entertaining one. I know I had a blast writing it. ;-)

**Disclaimer: In this time and in this reality, _Pandorum_ does not belong to me.**

Another violent shudder brought them all to a halt. Lights strobed and metal groaned, a few stray wires sparked. No matter how many times he went through this, Shepard was never any less freaked out. Once the power surge finally passed Imahara asked Jethro, "Will the reactor last long enough to start the evacuation?"

The tip of Jethro's tongue darted out as if to lick her lips, then she thought better of it. They had all covered themselves in cruddy oil to block their natural scent. She shrugged. "If we're quick enough, maybe."

"Perhaps we should try to fix the reactor first, _da?_" Ivanov suggested.

As if the spirit of irony listened in, a far-off howl reached their ears. Shepard gave his head an emphatic shake. He might have been depressed, but he wasn't fucking suicidal. The bridge lay in the opposite direction from where that howl came from. For whatever reason, the Hunters seemed to prefer the area of the ship closest to the reactor. Maybe because it might be a tad warmer there, or maybe because that's also around the same sections where most of the passengers were stored. Sticking close to the food source. Shepard felt bile rise in his throat at that morbid thought.

The four of them continued on without another word, Jethro in the lead, Ivanov and Imahara to either side of Shepard. More than any of them, he needed to be kept alive in order to save whatever passengers remained on the _Elysium_. Being surrounded by three other, more experienced survivors didn't make Shepard feel any safer, however. Their weapons seemed pathetic in the face of what he'd seen the Hunters do. Everything in him screamed to run away and find someplace to hide. His earlier melancholy had obviously done nothing to stifle his survival instincts. About the fifth time he jumped at some unidentifiable noise, Imahara placed a hand on his shoulder. Maybe she wanted to reassure him, or maybe she was just making sure he didn't bolt. "How much farther?" he whispered. It still sounded way too loud.

Jethro answered just as quietly, "We still got maybe an hour before we get there."

"Jesus." The sheer massiveness of the ship finally hit home for him. "We're not gonna make it."

"Shut it," Jethro hissed, "Keep that shit to yourself."

Shepard swallowed and tightened his sweaty grip on the blade he'd been given. His heart pounded so loudly in his ears he was amazed he could hear anything else. Jethro suddenly stopped and held up a hand. The others peered down as she knelt and indicated a thin line running across the floor, a tripwire. Cutting it would trigger the mechanism and cause a lot attention-getting noise, so instead they all carefully stepped over it. Shepard trembled at the memory of the snare he'd been caught in. Christ, was it only one day ago? If that guy, Bower, hadn't shown up... Shepard felt something akin to pity for the young blonde man who'd woken up to this hell. He had to be dead. Shepard couldn't imagine the guy escaping from a pack of Hunters, especially ones who were bound to be extra pissed when Shepard was literally yanked from their grasp. He hoped when Bower met his end it was quick.

A flicker of movement above and to the side was his only warning before a Hunter leaped down from some unseen perch with an unholy shriek and landed just behind their small group. The creature lashed out, slicing into Ivanov's back and knocking Shepard aside in one move. The blow to Shepard's midsection knocked the breath from him and sent him sprawling on the floor several feet away. Ivanov roared like an enraged bear and spun with incredible speed for someone of his size, swinging one of his broadswords. The Hunter dodged his first blow only to wind up in the path of the second sword. The monster screamed as the blade cut into its side. Imahara rushed in to help the old man while a second Hunter dropped down just as suddenly as the first and went after Jethro. The creature was preternaturally fast. It was all Jethro could do to fend it off. She couldn't hope to keep it up, and once she tired it would have her.

Shepard struggled to his feet, gasping, one arm clutching his abused midriff. The sounds of shouts and wails and clanging metal filled the corridor. He saw his companions fighting desperately for their lives. Adrenalin surged through his system and panic overcame physical pain. _Save yourself,_ his instincts cried. _Run!_

He ran, raising his weapon in both hands and driving it into the second Hunter's shoulder. He felt the blade grind against bone and heard the creature screech in rage. The Hunter spun, tearing itself loose from Shepard's blade, and struck him across his face. Its jagged claws left fiery trails of pain. Shepard staggered back with an agonized cry.

Jethro took advantage of the Hunter's distraction and stabbed its side, her sword slipping between its ribs and into its lung. A mortal wound for an ordinary human, but though the Hunter gurgled and spat up blood, it continued to fight back.

Shepard straightened and wiped the blood from his eye. Strangely, the injury had transformed his fear into hatred. He roared and came at the Hunter with his weapon raised. Wounded, the monster wasn't able to keep up with both his and Jethro's relentless attacks, though it sure as hell tried. Shepard's vision was lost in a red haze. Stabbing, slashing, screaming, an endless nightmare of violence. He didn't stop until a pair of hands grabbed onto his arms and pulled him away. He struggled, tried to slash at whatever had hold of him. But then the sounds he heard finally resolved themselves into words and his reason returned.

"Shepard, stop! It's dead!" Jethro dragged him from the bloody remains of the Hunter. Shepard stared blankly at the corpse. He couldn't even recognize it. Absurdly, the first word that sprang to his mind was _hamburger_, and then he was doubled over and vomiting up his last meal. He staggered away from the mess, wiping his mouth on his grimy sleeve. Then he opened his eyes and saw something far worse than what he'd turned away from.

Imahara was sprawled on the floor a short distance from the corpse of the other Hunter. Ivanov knelt at her side, his big hands clamped around her throat. At first, Shepard's addled brain told him the Russian was strangling her. But then he noticed the blood seeping from between his thick fingers and realized Ivanov was trying to save her. The Hunter's blade had cut through the botanist's neck so deeply it was a wonder she still clung to life at all. But even Shepard could see there was no hope for her.

They were covered in blood, all of them. Theirs and the Hunters'. It dripped from Ivanov's long dreadlocks. It coated the hands Jethro pressed to her mouth and left streaks on her face where her tears fell. It soaked Shepard's uniform, his hair, his skin. It flowed from the deep wound in Imahara's throat like a small river.

"It will be alright, _kraseevah_ Kuri," Ivanov whispered, because that's what people said when things were hopeless. His eyes gleamed with unshed tears and he smiled down at the dying woman. "It will be alright."

Imahara choked, blood dribbled from her lips. "Please," she gurgled weakly, "Don't...let them...eat..." Then stillness. Her eyes staring, lips parted. Gone.

Ivanov removed his hands from her throat, then gently closed her eyes with the tips of his fingers. The despair etched into his features was too much for Shepard to look at and he turned away. He could hear Jethro sobbing nearby. They all remained locked in their grief for several vulnerable moments, then Ivanov rose and hefted the woman's slight body with ease.

"Mike," Jethro sniffed, wiped her eyes, "We can't take her with us."

"I will not leave her to these beasts," the old man's soft tone brooked no argument. Neither Jethro nor Shepard could blame him, but where could they take her body where it would be safe from the Hunters? There was no place on this ship entirely out of their reach.

An idea formed in Shepard's mind. "I know where we can take her." He started down the corridor, glancing at the letters etched onto the doors. He heard the others following. No doubt they wondered what the hell he was up to. A couple minutes later he found the door he wanted and hit the control to open it. He and his companions stepped inside and he quickly sealed the door behind them. They found themselves in a room containing half a dozen hypersleep chambers that once belonged to a maintenance crew. All empty now.

"I can activate the launch sequence on individual pods," Shepard explained, "We can send her outside the ship." It was something that had occurred to him in his panicked state, just jump into the nearest cylinder and escape from all this. He still wasn't sure why he hadn't gone through with it.

"A burial at sea," Ivanov murmured. He placed Imahara's body in one of the cylinders with infinite care. She slumped gracelessly at the bottom of the chamber, her upper body leaning against the back wall, head lowered so that her dark hair obscured her face. She looked for all the world like she'd simply passed out after a rough night partying. Ivanov touched the controls and the chamber hissed shut. Without a word, Shepard stepped forward and typed the launch sequence into the keypad. If only he could do that for all the chambers at once, so he wouldn't have to continue this insane journey. But it just didn't work that way.

Shepard had only known Imahara for little more than a day, yet her death affected him more than he would have expected. She hadn't been killed running away from danger, she'd died trying to save everyone who remained alive on this godforsaken ship. Shepard didn't know if she had family, someone she loved, who might or might not have died centuries ago. He didn't know if she would make the same choices if given the chance. But he did know she was a better person than him.

"We commend her soul to God," he whispered, pressing the final key, "We commit her body to the sea."

The cylinder rose up with a blast of air and vanished through an opening that appeared in the ceiling above it. Before the opening irised shut, a thin stream of seawater spilled down. The three survivors stared at the spot where Imahara's body had been. Her absence left a void, like a missing limb. The tiny group would never be whole again.

They took the time to clean off the blood and tend their wounds as best they could. The claw marks on Shepard's face were bound to leave scars, especially since they all planned to apply more oil to themselves. Not the most sanitary stuff to put on one's cuts. Ivanov also changed the bandages on Shepard's side. The fight had pulled some of his stitches, but there wasn't time to redo them. Nor was there time to properly care for the gash on Ivanov's back. They depleted the bandages in his tiny first aid kit so that the Hunters would not catch the scent of their blood. They hoped.

"Mike," Jethro's voice was startling in its rawness.

Ivanov turned towards her, his movements stiff.

"Your injury's too severe. It's gonna slow you down."

He quirked a bushy eyebrow. "Why not let the qualified doctor be the judge, _da?_"

The woman sighed and ran a hand through her oil-matted hair. "You don't have to risk your life. You can take one of these chambers, have Shepard launch you to the surface."

"_Nyet_, Lenora," he answered somberly, "I will see this through to the end."

She looked like she wanted to argue further - she'd already lost one friend today - but she knew he wasn't about to change his mind. Her shoulders slumped in resignation.

Shepard watched their argument with a strange sense of detachment. They weren't about to offer _him_ the chance to escape the ship, even though he was hurt just as bad as the old man. They needed him, after all. Without his ability to access the ship's computer, there was no point in continuing. His hand slipped into his pocket and found the arrowhead. His thumb traced its edge, back and forth, like a desperate man invoking a good luck charm.

_"It's not a gift. I expect it back when we get to Tanis."_

A faint gasp escaped him, unnoticed by the others. He remembered. The arrowhead was _hers_. He could see it so clearly, he wondered how he ever could have forgotten. She wore it all the time, even under her uniform, which was against regulations. She'd jokingly called it her talisman.

_"It's for luck," she said, placing the precious token around his neck, "And so you won't forget me."_

_"I wouldn't forget you," he denied, even though they both knew he wouldn't have a choice._

Shepard tightened his grip on the arrowhead as his vision blurred. Jethro walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder. "We'll mourn her later," she said, misunderstanding his sadness, "Right now the only way we can give her death any meaning is to keep going." Her eyes were red-rimmed from her earlier crying. Shepard wondered how close she and Imahara had been. Like sisters? Lovers?

With a nod, he picked up his weapon and followed the others back out into the corridor. It was then that another power surge went through the ship. But - Shepard frowned - this time was different. The violent shudders were reduced to faint tremors. A low hum filled the air. He looked at the others and saw the same confusion. Then the lights flickered, brightened, and settled into a steady glow. The control panels scattered throughout the corridor blinked to life for the first time in centuries. Cool air blew down from a ceiling vent.

"Oh my god," Jethro gasped.

"What's happening?" Shepard asked.

She stared around in amazement. "Th-the generator. Somebody's reset it."

The revelation left him dizzy. He actually staggered back a step. Someone else...someone else was alive. They weren't alone.

Ivanov recovered first from the shock. He set his jaw and tightened his grip on his broadswords. "This gives us time to reach the bridge, then."

He was right. With the reactor functioning again, they no longer had to fear the ship's power grid failing altogether and making it impossible to start evacuation. They could proceed at a more cautious pace, and that was what they did.

Shepard reveled at the fact that he was no longer surrounded by shadows. It was hard not to grow overconfident from this. He had to remind himself that just because the lights were on didn't mean the monsters had vanished. It was just easier to see them coming now.

They walked in a row, Jethro in the lead, Shepard in the middle, and Ivanov bringing up the rear. Shepard moved to close the distance between him and Jethro, still behind her but off to her side. She cast him a warning glance at leaving his position of relative safety, but didn't say anything.

"Did Imahara have any family?" He didn't know why he asked this. Maybe to ground himself after the high of witnessing the ship come back to life.

Jethro pursed her lips. "No, not that she mentioned. Mike has a daughter. If she hasn't woken from hypersleep yet, she'll still be eight years old."

Shepard started. Eight years old, and her father had been awake long enough to become an old man. Was eight old enough to understand why he'd aged so drastically while she stayed the same?

"What about you?" he asked, "You got anybody?"

She stared straight ahead, ostensibly to keep alert for approaching danger. Her answer, when it finally came, was so quiet Shepard had to strain to hear it. "Yes."

"Who?"

She swallowed. "I don't know. I don't remember anything about them, what they looked like, who they were to me. All I have is a name and a feeling. That's all."

Shepard thought about the faceless, nameless woman he loved and felt a surge of empathy for Jethro and her broken memories. He touched her arm. "I'm sorry."

Jethro took a deep breath, nodded. Shepard allowed himself to fall back until he was between her and Ivanov again. They continued their journey in silence until Jethro brought them to a halt in front of a specific door. "We're here. This is where one of the flight teams was kept in hypersleep. We can go through here directly to the bridge."

Shepard read the words stenciled across the door:

FLIGHT CREW

TEAM 6

He snorted. _Right back where I started._

Yowls and screeches cut through the air. The three companions jumped.

"They sound pissed," a nervous Shepard remarked.

"They're getting closer," Ivanov said.

They didn't waste another second to enter the room. Jethro activated the door locks, their muted thunks bringing some small relief. Shepard took in his surroundings. It was strange to see the empty cylinder with his name on the front. It didn't feel like weeks since he'd been revived, it felt like years.

The others didn't spare the three empty chambers a glance as they walked past. As they neared the massive door leading to the bridge, Jethro slowed to a halt, one hand raised to check the others. A deep frown creased the space between her eyebrows.

"What?" Shepard asked. Why wasn't she opening the door?

She moved her hand in a beckoning gesture. "You hear that?"

Puzzled, the two men stepped closer and turned their ears to the door. Their eyes widened as the same realization hit them at the same moment. There were people already on the bridge. And they were fighting. There were the sounds of fists connecting, grunts of pain and angry shouts. None of these were Hunter sounds. There were no unearthly shrieks or terrified screams from their victims. This was human against human.

A woman's voice cried out, "What are you doing! Why don't you shoot!" And then the sound of something metallic breaking and the loud ping of a ricochet. The crackle of reinforced glass forming cracks. Then chaos.

A loud siren blared. It took a second for Shepard's training to remind him what it meant. "Oh, fuck," he stumbled back from the door, "Hull breach!"

The door moaned as water sprayed out from its seams. The ship's interior was strong, but it wasn't designed to contain an entire ocean. They only had a few seconds before the door collapsed and the entire room flooded. Ivanov started for the door they'd entered through, but Jethro yelled, "No! We need to get into the pods!"

Shepard nodded in frantic agreement. A hull breach meant the ship would automatically evacuate all occupied hypersleep chambers. This was their only chance. Jethro leaped into the cylinder that once belonged to someone named Lieutenant Shannon. No sooner did it hiss closed than it jettisoned itself out into the unknown. Shepard ran for his own chamber just as the door they'd used to come in here - the door leading out into the corridor - suddenly slid open and a snarling Hunter burst in. Ivanov lumbered forward to meet it, brandishing his swords. Shepard found himself locked in place, torn between escape and coming to his friend's aid.

"Go!" Ivanov bellowed over his shoulder. He was already bleeding from half a dozen cuts inflicted by the Hunter's wicked blades.

A pained groan escaped Shepard's throat and he ran towards the combatants. He was terrified, but he couldn't leave Ivanov to face that monster alone.

A horrific screech rent the air as the door to the bridge chose that moment to fail. A tidal wave swept through the room, knocking both men and the Hunter off their feet and slamming them into the opposite wall. Shepard gagged on saltwater and flailed ineffectually until a meaty pair of arms wrapped around him and lifted his head above the water. He choked and sputtered. Ivanov dragged him over to the nearest chamber and shoved him in. The cylinder automatically sealed itself. Shepard stood chest-deep in water and stared through the window at the old man's calm face. He could see more Hunters coming, climbing down from the ceiling and fighting the gushing tide through the door. Shepard tried to shout a warning, but there was no way the other man could hear him through the chamber's impenetrable walls. And then he was launched and Ivanov, the Hunters, and the ship were swept from his sight.

* * *

><p>Russian words:<p>

_Kraseevah_ - Beautiful

_Nyet_ - No


	5. On the Beach

**A/N:** Bit of a short chapter this time. Let's see how many of you get the reference in the chappie's title. -)

**Disclaimer: _Pandorum_ is the product of those with far greater imagination than I. Neither the movie nor its characters belong to me.**

The hypersleep chamber-turned-escape pod shot away from the drowned ship with enough sudden force to cause Shepard's head to dunk under the water that filled most of the cylinder. He resurfaced with a sputter and stared through the window into impenetrable blackness. Like deep space without stars. How deep would the _Elysium_ have to sink into the ocean for no light to reach it? Did the pod have enough momentum to reach the surface? Christ, did he have enough air? He was chest-deep in water hurtling god knew how far up from the ocean's depths. The pocket of air surrounding his head wouldn't last more than a few minutes. Shepard fumbled around in a near panic until his hand closed around a familiar object. He yanked the breathing mask out of the water, dumped out whatever liquid had gotten in, and clapped the mask onto his face. Relief flooded him as he felt a steady airflow against his nose and mouth. He secured the mask's straps around his head and tried to breathe normally.

Things flitted past the window too fast for his eyes to discern. Bioluminescent sea-dwelling creatures, their colors ranging from pale pink to fluorescent purple. Some were no bigger than his hand, while others were so huge he thought they could swallow his escape pod whole. The animals grew scarcer as the surrounding ocean grew noticeably less black. Shepard's optimism grew as the view outside turned from midnight blue to indigo to navy. It lightened with greater speed the closer he got to the surface. Soon he was surrounded in pale aquamarine and suddenly the cylinder broke through the surface into a bright day. For a second he was airborne and Shepard's stomach flew to his throat. Then his escape pod smacked into the water with a jolt that knocked the breathing mask off his face. Shepard thrashed as seawater flooded his nose. He heard a loud bang as the hatch was blown and he sat up coughing and spluttering, taking his first breaths of Tanis air.

Shepard took in his surroundings with a dazed look. Everywhere was clean blue ocean and bright blue sky, brilliant white clouds and a yellow sun whose rays were unimpeded by layers of smog. Two huge metal structures arced into the clear sky, sections of the rings that hooped around _Elysium_'s front section. Ejected hypersleep chambers popped up by the dozens, splashing down in the water, hatches spinning away as they were automatically blown off, turning the cylinders into makeshift boats.

Shepard looked down at his own chamber and was astonished how well the damn thing floated even with all the water it had taken on. He wondered if he would have to paddle with his hands when a faint hiss alerted him. Shepard peered over the side, frightened that he'd sprung some kind of leak, only to see panels all along the sides of the cylinder pop open to reveal numerous expanding bags of gas, turning the pod into a small raft. A low hum signaled another feature kicking in and Shepard discovered he was moving. He laughed in amazement. Of course it would all be automated! It was designed to carry a person who would've just woken from hypersleep and be way too addled to help himself. It even had some kind of bailing system. Pretty soon Shepard found himself sitting in a relatively dry boat puttering away from the ship's sunken ruins. He looked in the direction he was headed and couldn't suppress a gasp of wonder.

He couldn't tell if it was an island or the coastline of some major continent. He saw tall cliffs and waterfalls, sandy beaches, and _green_. So much green. The images sent back to Earth from the probes didn't do Tanis justice. The planet teemed with more plant life than Shepard had ever seen outside of old movies and photographs. A pristine world, like Earth used to be before people fucked it up. The air was so clear he could see all the way to the horizon, and it carried a hint of saltiness which only seemed to give it an even cleaner smell. Shepard could imagine the pollutants that had clogged his lungs for most of his life getting purged with each untainted breath he took. All the horrors he'd experienced since waking aboard the _Elysium_ took on the unreal quality of a nightmare as he viewed the beauty of his new home. Home. This was home now, not just for him, but for all those who were left of humanity. For the first time in weeks, Shepard's mouth stretched in a genuine smile. "We fucking made it."

* * *

><p>The life raft ran itself aground on the beach. Shepard clambered out and slogged the rest of the way onto dry land. He took in his surroundings with a laugh of delight. It was all so perfect it hardly seemed real. He turned around and looked out at the ocean, the hundreds of rafts making their way to shore and the metal arches in the distance. The first survivors had already made it ashore and were hobbling on unsteady legs over the white sands. Shepard noticed he wasn't the only one who'd been awake at the time of the evacuation. He saw a blonde man in a grimy uniform and a woman dressed in tattered clothes with her bare feet wrapped in rags helping some of the weaker individuals out of their escape pods. The man seemed familiar. It took a second for it to click, and when it did, Shepard's jaw fell open in shock. "Holy shit! Bower?"<p>

The blonde man looked up at the sound of his name and gaped, no less astonished than Shepard. "I thought those things killed you."

"I thought they killed _you_," Shepard retorted, "How the hell'd you get away?"

Bower shook his head, his expression weary. In the day or two since the two men had parted ways, he'd seemed to have aged ten years. "Long story. I'll fill you in later. Right now these people need help getting ashore."

"You could pitch in," the woman suggested rather bluntly. She spoke with a noticeable German accent.

Shepard didn't take offense at her tone. He was still riding high from his escape from the ship. So he joined the other two in helping his fellow survivors ashore without complaint, even though the wound in his side kept sending out twinges of pain if he wasn't careful. He noticed the German woman favored her side as well. It made him wonder if anyone got through this shit unscathed.

Dozens of massive crates also came in on their own huge inflatable rafts. These were the emergency supplies ejected along with the escape pods. Each container was crammed with easy-to-erect shelters, clothing, food, water, and medical supplies. Enough in total to sustain sixty thousand people for approximately three weeks.

Shepard stared at the overabundance of supplies, then took in the men and women clustered along the beach. It suddenly hit home just how few of them remained.

"My god," the woman breathed, the same realization having occurred to her, "This is all? How many of us are left?"

Bower answered calmly, "Enough to start over."

Shepard, Bower, and the woman, whose name turned out to be Nadia, soon found themselves too busy to dwell on anything but the immediate situation. They popped open the nearest crate and divvied out clothes and shoes to the newly awakened. Vacuum sealed pouches of food and bottles of water were also distributed. Shepard was amazed and a little disturbed to see that most of the food was still good even though it had been sitting around for the better part of a millennium. That was one bit of information Bower had shared with him when they had a spare moment. More than nine hundred years had elapsed since they'd left Earth behind. Shepard had trouble wrapping his head around the concept. He'd been asleep for _nine hundred years_. Civilizations rose and fell in less time than that! He had plenty more questions for Bower, who seemed to know a hell of a lot more than he did, but it would have to wait until everyone was taken care of. They were an endangered species, after all. Every life held far greater value than ever before.

A happy surprise occurred in the midst of Shepard's running around; he found Ivanov. Or rather, the old man found him.

"Shepard!"

He spun at the sound of the familiar bellow and gaped at the big Russian lumbering towards him with arms outstretched. He found himself crushed in a bearlike embrace and laughed with relief at seeing his friend alive. "I didn't think you made it out," he gasped once the larger man set him down.

Ivanov chuckled, "I was not so certain that I would myself. Those beasts were persistent, even in the midst of a flood." He sported numerous cuts that he'd apparently bandaged himself with one of the medical kits lying around.

Shepard glanced around. "Have you seen Jethro?"

The old man sobered and shook his head, dreadlocks swinging. "_Nyet_. You are the only one of us I found as yet. We must not worry, though. Lenora got out ahead of us. She is probably on a different part of this beach, _da?_"

Shepard stared at the coastline teeming with men and women. "Yeah," he said without much certainty, "Maybe we'll run into her later."

Ivanov pitched in with the relief effort. He also insisted on tending to Shepard's wound. Some of the stitches needed to be redone. Nadia benefited from the doctor's attentions as well. She'd apparently met with the wrong end of some lunatic's filleting knife.

The sun began to drop towards the horizon. Inflatable dome-shaped shelters were set up a little further inland. They looked flimsy, but once properly anchored down they could withstand a hurricane and their synthetic fabric was super-resistant to piercing or tearing. Each shelter could hold up to six individuals, but there were so many of them available - and so few individuals - everyone could take one all to him or herself, if they wanted. Few people did, however. The shock of discovering that the original mission had somehow gone terribly wrong left them too anxious and scared to want to be alone. Shepard had chosen to share a tent Ivanov, while Bower and Nadia stayed together in their own shelter.

Night fell. Portable lanterns cast their comforting glows over the refugee camp. Ivanov, Shepard, Nadia, and Bower all gathered together in the latters' tent to share their stories. Shepard and Ivanov went first, telling about their experiences aboard the derelict ship, their run-ins with the Hunters, the theories they'd proposed, and their final attempts to reach the bridge so Shepard could start the evacuation. While he talked, Shepard inwardly fretted over Jethro's absence. He and Ivanov had looked all over and still hadn't found her. He was starting to wonder if her escape pod had malfunctioned before it reached the surface, turning it into a coffin in a watery grave. Shepard didn't know why the idea scared him as much as it did. He hardly knew the woman, and their relationship wasn't entirely friendly. Even so, he kept glancing through the transparent section of the dome that served as a window, hoping Jethro would miraculously appear out of the dark.

Their part of the story finished, Shepard and Ivanov listened while Bower and Nadia related their own experiences and discoveries. Shepard soon learned of the final transmission from Earth telling of the planet's sudden destruction. He learned how the psychological blow brought on by this knowledge caused a member of the flight crew to succumb to the spaceborne insanity known as Pandorum. How this crewmember, Corporal Gallo, killed the other two officers and set about waking some of the passengers, holding them captive in the cargo holds, leaving them with little or no means of survival. How those desperate men and women turned to cannibalism, and how the enzymes ingested during hypersleep to speed up evolution caused their offspring to adapt and change into the vicious Hunters that spent the next nine centuries slowly devouring the rest of the passengers, reducing their numbers to however many were currently huddled together in this camp. At first guess, there were only about a thousand.

Bower and Nadia told of their final confrontation with Gallo on _Elysium_'s bridge and the accidental ricochet from Bower's non-lethal weapon that cracked the main window and caused the devastating flood, triggering the evacuation sequence as a result. Shepard found it appropriately ironic that they were all saved by dumb chance rather than deliberate heroism.

"So, that's it?" he said once the telling was done, "There's nothing left?"

"Nothing left of Earth," Bower nodded, "But that doesn't mean it's the end of us. Humanity will survive-"

"Only to fuck things up again in another thousand years," Shepard grumbled.

Ivanov patted his shoulder. "We do not know that for sure. Those who come after us may learn from our past mistakes."

Shepard was less than convinced. "What's the damn point? Seriously, why even try to go on? Nobody's got anyone that they care about anymore. All our families are _dead_. Everything we care about's gone. There's nothing left!" He fell silent, not caring that he was acting sullen. Given all he'd been through, and knowing that the woman whose name he still couldn't recall had to be long dead, he felt he'd earned the right to be a little pissy. It was either that or burst into tears, and he wasn't about to do that in front of the others.

"_Survival_ is the point," Nadia stated, "We'll go on because we have to. Because laying down and dying just isn't in us."

Shepard felt a surge of anger at the truth of those words. The survival instinct didn't allow for self-pity. He knew even though part of him wanted to throw himself off the nearest cliff so he wouldn't have to deal with the pain of being without _her_, he would continue to live. And he hated himself for that.

He got to his feet, mumbled something about needing some air, and exited the shelter. None of the others tried to follow him. They understood he needed time alone.

Inside the tent he would share with Ivanov, Shepard turned off the lantern and curled up in his cot. The arrowhead necklace that once belonged to the woman he loved was cradled in the fist which he rested beside his head. He struggled to remember something, anything about her name or her face, but the memories remained locked somewhere in his hypersleep-scrambled mind. A sound of frustration not unlike a sob escaped him. "I'm sorry," he whispered to the surrounding dark, "I'm sorry I can't remember you." And the tears he'd held back before now streamed freely from his closed eyes.


	6. Breaking Through the Wall

**A/N:** Not so angsty this time around. Well, a little angst at first, but then it gets better. _Way _better, but I don't want to spoil it by telling you how. You'll just have to read and find out. ;-)

**Disclaimer: This is only a fanfic. It is not intended to make any money. _Pandorum_ does not belong to me.**

Shepard woke to the soft buzz of Ivanov's snores. He rolled onto his side and peered at the tent's plastic window. The light outside was gloomy. He wasn't sure if it was because the sun was only just coming up or if the weather had taken a turn during the night. He really didn't care which. He rolled out of the cot, slipped his shoes on, and unzipped the tent's entrance, careful not to wake his roommate. He slipped out into the cool morning and zipped the tent closed behind him. It appeared he was the only one up at the moment. Nothing stirred in the campsite. The area along the beach was cluttered with white domes like some kind of giant mushroom infestation. Shepard shoved his hands in his pockets and started walking. He didn't really care where he went, he just needed to put some distance between himself and everyone else.

A light drizzle started to fall. Soon his hair was plastered to his head and his uniform clung to him. He didn't mind, though. The air was warm enough that the rainfall actually felt kind of pleasant. Shepard wandered along the coastline until the shelters were lost from sight. Colorful birdlike creatures wheeled overhead, unfazed by the weather, their cries reminding him of recordings he'd heard of long-extinct hawks. They were the only living things he saw, aside from the greenery.

He paused for a moment and turned to face inland. There were mountains in the distance, tall and imposing, capped with perfectly white snow. The sight of them sparked a memory. He felt around in his pocket and pulled out the photo of the mountainscape he'd found in his locker what seemed like ages ago. Holding it up so he could view it beside the real mountains, he compared details and realized they were the same. A memory tickled the edge of his mind. Him watching footage taken by the probes, catching a glimpse of those pristine mountains. The image had captivated him to the point that he printed off a still from the footage. The desire to see that mountain range was one of the reasons he'd signed up for _Elysium_ in the first place. He'd wanted to know what it was like to be on a planet where the air was so clear he could see sights like that every day.

"That's one mystery solved," he muttered, shoving the picture back into his pocket. He continued walking. The rain grew steadily heavier until Shepard was totally drenched. He didn't care. He made no move to turn around and head back to camp.

A few minutes later he noticed something ahead of him. The rain made it difficult to make out any details, but it looked like someone sitting or kneeling on the beach. Puzzled, he picked up the pace and closed the distance between them. It wasn't long before he recognized the figure ahead.

"Jethro!" Shepard jogged the remaining distance between them. Jethro didn't react, even though he was standing right next to her. She sat in the wet sand with her knees drawn to her chest, facing out towards the ocean. Her raggedly cut hair hung in wet tendrils that dripped onto her shoulders. Shepard knelt beside her. He raised a hand, hesitated, then touched her shoulder. "Hey. You okay?"

"I'm fine," she answered in a dull monotone, "I found Kuri. Our pods brought us both to this spot. Guess we both got caught in the same current." She pointed her thumb over her shoulder. "I buried her over there."

Shepard turned and saw a fresh mound of disturbed soil a little farther inland. How long did that take? He didn't see any tools. He looked at Jethro's hands, saw cuts and scrapes, dirt embedded under short nails.

"Why didn't you come looking for the rest of us?"

She shrugged. "I'm not the best company right now."

"Ivanov was worried about you." _And so was I_, he thought. "We were afraid you'd drowned or something."

"Well, now you can tell him alright."

"Why don't you come back with me and tell him yourself?"

The rain was lessening and the sky above them grew noticeably lighter as the clouds started to withdraw.

Jethro's chin trembled. "Because I just buried a friend who died for nothing."

Shepard frowned. "What're you talking about? Imahara didn't die for nothing. She tried to help save everyone-"

"Yeah, but we _didn't _save everyone, did we?" she snapped, turning her pain-filled glare on him, "The evacuation sequence got activated because of a fucking _accident_. We didn't do anything! We might as well not have even been there!" She choked back a sob. Her hands wiped rainwater and tears from her face. "I didn't save anyone. I only got Kuri killed."

Shepard grabbed her shoulders and forced her to look at him. "Don't say that. Kuri was an adult. She made up her own mind to come with us."

Jethro shook her head. "I talked her into it. I talked all of you into it. And it all wound up being total bullshit. None of it mattered."

Shepard shook his head. "If I hadn't gone along with you," he said solemnly, "I would've hated myself for it. I was a coward. All I did since I woke up was run away. You got me to run _to_ something, and I'm grateful for that. I stopped letting my fear decide for me. And now here we are," he indicated their surroundings with a sweep of his arm, "On Tanis! We made it and now we all have a chance at something better."

She stared at him, her eyes filled with despair. "Everyone I ever loved is dead. My parents. My brothers. My...my...oh, fuck!" she moaned in despair, "I don't know! I can't remember!" She struck the heel of her hand against her temple as if she might dislodge the memory of who she lost.

Shepard took her wrist and made her lower her arm, then cradled her head in his hands. He gazed into her dark eyes, willing her to listen. "Whoever you're trying to remember, you didn't lose 'em. I don't know how I know this, but I do."

Jethro swallowed. "Even if that's true, why would they want anything to do with me? I've been awake for ten years. I'm half-crazy and scarred up. Look," she pulled down her collar, revealing a diagonal scar across her throat, the reason for her husky voice, "And that's not even the worst one."

Shepard could imagine the hell she'd lived through since she woke up. The horrors committed against her, and that she committed in order to survive. The wounds she'd received, the lives she'd taken. And all the while searching for someone whose face she couldn't recall, who might have died horribly centuries ago and who existed as something less than a memory. Shepard could imagine these things because he'd lived them, too, though not for nearly as long. He'd searched every face amongst the survivors in hopes of finding something, some reminder that would break through the wall that hypersleep and put up inside his head. Something to let him know that the woman whose absence was like a gaping hole in his heart was still alive. But no inkling came. She was either long gone or he simply hadn't recognized her. He wasn't sure which was worse.

He shook his head again, his eyes stinging. "The scars don't matter."

The clouds overhead parted.

"They matter," Jethro choked, "Why would he want somebody damaged?"

The sun peeked through, brightening the world. A ray of sunlight hit them at just the right angle. Jethro's hair wasn't dark brown like Shepard had thought, but was revealed instead to be a rich auburn color.

"It doesn't matter," he repeated, a tear escaping his left eye and trickling down his cheek, "It doesn't matter, Lennie."

Jethro's breath caught in her throat. Shepard reached into his pocket and withdrew the arrowhead. He held it up for her to see. "It's me, Lennie. It's..." But the name wouldn't come. It was lodged behind the wall and no amount of concentration could budge it.

Jethro touched the arrowhead with trembling fingers. She sobbed, "Zach."

The wall in his mind dissolved at the sound of his name, and all the memories denied him flooded in...

_...approaching her for the first time in the domed park. "Hey, I'm Zach." "Lenora, but everybody calls me Lennie..."_

_...their first kiss, and the way his heart sped until he thought it might explode from his chest..._

_"...Y'know, a gentleman would kiss you goodnight and head for home." "Good thing you're not a gentleman," and laughing, she dragged him by the collar of his shirt into her quarters..._

_...the arrowhead nestled between her breasts..._

_I love you..._

Tears of love and remorse fell from his eyes. "Christ, baby, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I didn't see it was you."

He touched her face. She leaned into his hand even as she wept, "I'm sorry you had to find me like this."

"I don't care," he whispered intensely, "I don't care that you're older. I don't care if you're covered in scars. You're alive! That's all that matters to me." While he said those things he leaned closer, as if drawn by invisible strings. He touched his forehead to hers. "I love you, Lennie."

"I love you," she said, and closed the distance between their lips.

It felt like their first kiss. Like a part of him he hadn't even known was missing was finally made whole. When they eventually, reluctantly parted, Shepard asked, "You still wanna marry me?"

Jethro uttered a shaky laugh and wiped her tears with her damp sleeve. "Thinking about you is all that kept me going for so many years. Of course I still wanna marry you. Do you still want me? Even like this?"

Shepard grinned. "You have no fucking idea how much I want you." And the not-so-subtle double entendre made Jethro's smile widen.

They found a relatively dry spot beneath a large tree with far-ranging branches. There on a cushion of grass and leaf-litter, they made love on Tanis for the first time. Jethro was timid at first, self-conscious of all the battle scars she believed disfigured her. Shepard's gentle coaxing gradually eased her fears. He kissed and caressed each visible reminder of the harsh life she'd led aboard the _Elysium_. Her body had changed with age and injury, but it was still her, and to Shepard she would always be beautiful.

As they reached their climax they wept again, this time in joy. After all but giving up hope, they were finally together, and nothing would ever separate them again.

Shepard lay with his head pillowed against Jethro's breast. The arrowhead, which he'd tenderly placed around her neck, lay a scant inch from the tip of his nose. The leafy branches overhead rustled in a gentle susurrus counterpoint to Jethro's heartbeat.

"We can't tell the others about us," she murmured suddenly, "Any of them. It'd bee too cruel, especially once they get their memories back and know what they've lost."

Shepard sobered at the thought. She was right. Finding each other had been nothing short of a miracle. The rest of the survivors, how many of them carried the memories of families long gone locked away in their minds? Shepard thought of the sorrow he'd felt after waking from his resurfacing memories of Lennie and finding himself alone. Seeing someone else find their happiness would only have made his anguish that much worse.

"Okay," he said, "Guess we'll just have to court each other all over again."

"But not too long," she cautioned, running her fingers through his short hair, "Ten years is long enough a wait. I still want us to be the first people to marry on this planet."

Shepard raised his head and propped himself up on his elbows, gazing down at her with a grin. "So, a short, fiery courtship followed by a picturesque outdoor wedding and a honeymoon that'll have the neighbors gossiping for months. Sounds like a plan."

"And babies," Jethro added, stroking the side of his face.

Shepard's smile faltered for a second, then broadened as the concept had a chance to gain a foothold. "Babies."

"'Cause we're an endangered species now," she murmured as she kissed him sweetly.

"And we need to increase our numbers if we wanna keep humanity going," he agreed, kissing her back. His tongue slid past her lips and and explored the familiar contours of her mouth. He then kissed her chin, along her jaw line, and down her slender neck. When he reached the scar on her throat he ran the tip of his tongue over its uneven length.

Jethro moaned, "And I want a family with you."

"Me, too," he said in a husky voice, then started planting kisses along her collarbone, "I wanna have a dozen kids with you."

"Let's not go overboard," she laughed. Then Shepard slid his throbbing length into her and her laughter turned to other sounds.

* * *

><p>It was well past noon when they finally returned to the camp. Ivanov was overjoyed to see Jethro alive and well and knocked the wind out of her in the resulting embrace. "You worried us, <em>devushka<em>," he chided good-naturedly, "You should not have stayed away so long!"

"I'm sorry, Mike. Guess I was more lost than I thought."

"Good thing Shepard decided to wander off this morning, _da?_" The grinning doctor slapped the smaller man's shoulder hard enough to almost knock him down. "Luck smiled on you both to have found each other."

For a second the couple wondered if he knew, but before worry had a chance to set in Ivanov slipped a beefy arm around Jethro's waist and escorted her further into camp. "Come! You must meet some of our fellow survivors. Over there is Bower and his companion Nadia. They are the ones we have to thank for breaching the hull and setting off the evacuation. And that elegant young lady over there is Popowitz. She is a metallurgist of some renown, or so she tells me. And over there..."

As the garrulous Russian dragged her off on an impromptu tour of the encampment, Jethro glanced over her shoulder and risked a brief, secretive smile, which Shepard returned wholeheartedly.

* * *

><p>Russian word:<p>

_Devushka_ - Girl/Young woman


	7. New Life

**A/N:** Hope everybody had a great Fourth of July! This will be the final chapter. More of an extended epilogue, really. Thank you all for reading, and thanks to **gaarsaku4ever** and **JadeSun12** for their reviews. Hopefully, there will be more _Pandorum_ fics in the future, either from me or from other writers. Either way, I had a good time writing this one.

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Pandorum_. I'm just borrowing it for a while. I'll give it back, I swear. :-)**

"_You are all that's left of us. Good luck. God bless. And godspeed." - Earth's Final Transmission_

Life on Tanis wasn't easy, but it was worthwhile. Bower became the leader of their ragtag colony, partly because he was the highest ranking officer still alive, but also because people naturally gravitated towards him with their problems. He got the encampment organized so that the experts among them had a chance to practice their fields. Botanists and biologists figured out which plants and animals were dangerous, and which could be used as alternative food sources, because _no one_ wanted to live off rations if they didn't have to. Mineralogists and geologists went in search of useful metals and minerals. The handful of physicians, including Ivanov, created a makeshift hospital and kept a careful inventory of all their medical supplies.

No one was idle. Better shelters were constructed from local trees and materials cannibalized from the emergency supply crates and escape pods. Experimental garden plots were dug to see how well the native plants could be domesticated. And weapons were distributed, in case some of the local fauna proved unfriendly.

Bower and a core group of trusted individuals also spent their evenings making plans for an expedition into the derelict _Elysium_. The ship still contained many things they would need if they wanted to survive without regressing into a hunter-gatherer society in a couple of generations and risk seeing their descendants forget their origins. Nadia was also desperate to rescue the gene-bank containing what was left of Earth's biosphere. Among other reasons, if it turned out they couldn't live off of any of the native plants or animals, they would need what Nadia's ark could provide for food.

But most of that was months, if not years away, and there was so much to do until then.

Jethro, naturally, moved in with Shepard. Once Ivanov caught the unmistakable vibe between them, he graciously found himself another shelter to give them their privacy, a precious commodity in this refugee camp. Sometimes the nights were pierced by the cries of someone whose memories resurfaced and the losses they suffered hit home all at once. There were a couple of trained counselors among them, and those poor souls were always busy. It only reinforced to Shepard and Jethro the need to keep their history quiet. It wasn't hard, since everyone was too busy to talk much about their pasts (those who could remember their pasts, that is).

And life, as they say, went on.

* * *

><p>Shepard rolled the kinks out of his shoulders as he headed back to camp and the shelter he shared with Jethro. He'd always thought he was in pretty good shape, but the last few weeks showed him different. Everything ached, his hands were covered in blisters, but he ended each day with a great sense of accomplishment. He and a group of men and women were in the process of building the small cabin that he and Jethro would live in. Using mostly hand tools and good old fashioned muscle, they'd constructed the walls from native timber and were in the process of erecting a roof made of panels taken from an emergency crate. After that, all they needed was to install the plumbing that would tap into an aquifer not too far beneath the surface. The engineers and maintenance techs - Jethro included - were in the process of cobbling together the necessary drilling equipment. Some glass for the windows would be nice, too, but they had yet to figure out how to make it, and there were only so many hours in the day.<p>

Shepard paused at a communal water barrel to rinse the sweat off himself before he entered the domed tent to find Jethro already there. She was heating their dinner over a camp stove, a mixture of emergency rations and some local herb-like greens that were useless nutritionally, but added some much-needed flavor to the nutrient mush.

"Hey." Shepard kissed her, then seated himself on a cushion. He noticed a funny little smile on Jethro's face and frowned. "What's up?"

"Mike had me put on lighter work duty."

"What? Why?" The only reason Ivanov or the other doctors would place someone under less strenuous work was if they were sick, or injured, or...

"Oh, my god."

"You really that surprised?" she grinned, "It's not like we've been using any protection."

"B-but..."

Jethro's smile waned. "You're acting like this isn't good news."

Shepard was quick to reassure her, "It is! It's great news!" He shrugged. "It's just... I know it's old-fashioned or whatever, but I was hoping we'd get married _before_ we started having kids."

Jethro scooted over to him on her knees, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed his cheek. "There's nothing stopping us from getting married _now_."

A slow grin spread across Shepard's face. "Got a good point there."

"I thought so." She kissed his lips this time, and the kiss quickly deepened. Shepard brought a hand to the back of her head to prolong the moment. Only a warning sizzle from their dinner ended it as Jethro hurried to make sure nothing burned.

The wedding was held less than a week later. It was unconventional, to say the least, since there were no priests or pastors, no judges, and no captain. So the couple asked their closest friend, Ivanov, to perform the ceremony. Though he'd never done any thing like it before, the old man threw himself into the role. The entire encampment attended, all twelve-hundred thirteen survivors. After so many tragedies and hardships, this happy occasion was a welcome reprieve for them all.

A feast combining rations and native foods was prepared. The musically inclined threw together some makeshift instruments and warmed up their singing voices. The rings were made by one of the mineralogists, who shaped them from the pale blue-green stone that was the Tanis equivalent of jade. Shepard and Jethro wore clean new clothes fresh from the emergency packs, and Jethro wore a garland of wildflowers.

Ivanov kept the ceremony fairly brief, as per the couple's request and against his loquacious nature. When the vows were spoken and the rings exchanged, the entire encampment let out a deafening cheer. Ivanov crushed the newlyweds with one of his trademark hugs and said to them under the crowd's roar, "If the child is a girl, please consider calling her Anna. It was my daughter's name, and it would comfort me to know some small part of her will continue."

Jethro glanced at Shepard, who nodded. "Of course we will, Mike. After being such a good friend to us, it's the least we can do."

Ivanov's carefully groomed beard split in a wide smile, his eyes shining. " _Spashiba bolshoy_, my dear friends."

The wedding celebration was also a chance for everyone to blow off some steam. The lack of alcoholic beverages didn't seem to matter. There was music and dancing, games both familiar and made-up on the spot, and far too much eating. Nobody noticed when the newlyweds left the party early, and they wouldn't have stopped celebrating if they had.

Shepard led Jethro by the hand out into the night. The encampment, with its fires and lanterns and voices raised in laughter and song, receded behind them, its glow like a false dawn at their backs.

"Where are we going?" Jethro asked, trying not to trip on the uneven terrain.

Shepard, pointing a lantern ahead of them, said only, "You'll see."

His new wife sighed, "You know I don't like mysteries."

"It's not a mystery," he looked at her and grinned, "It's a surprise."

A large shape loomed ahead. Jethro squinted, trying to make out some kind of detail. It was only when the lantern's faint beam reached it that she realized it was the cabin Shepard had been working on. She gasped, "You finished it!"

Shepard proudly showed her the sturdy walls and finished roof. "It still needs plumbing and windowpanes, but other than that it's ready." He turned to her. "Figured we oughta spend our first night as man and wife under our own roof."

Jethro kissed him. "You're right. It's perfect."

Shepard handed her the lantern, then abruptly scooped her up in his arms. Jethro yelped, then laughed in surprise as he carried her to the cabin. He paused when an obstacle he hadn't considered presented itself. "Crap. Honey, wouldya mind opening the door?"

Laughing, Jethro turned the knob and pushed the door open. Her husband then carried her over the threshold. Inside the cabin was a newly constructed bed with a wood frame and a couple of mattresses taken from emergency cots. Jethro looked at it, then looked at Shepard and cocked an eyebrow. "You _are_ prepared."

Grinning, he carried his bride to their honeymoon bed. There they undressed each other and Shepard rested a hand on his wife's still-flat stomach. He met her gaze with a tender smile. "I love you, Lennie."

"I love you, Zach."

He bent down and kissed her belly. "And I love you," he murmured to the tiny life inside, "Whoever you're gonna be."

And the first native-born child of Tanis stirred, too small as yet to be felt.

* * *

><p>Russian words:<p>

_Spashiba bolshoy _- Thank you very much.


End file.
